In memory of Jacqui Agu whose tragic passing on the 1st August, 1998 stunned us all and whose zest for life has now been quelled. Dedicated to her husband and her baby daughter in the hope of peace and understanding at their loss.
"Time of death 11.15 p.m." Kerry Weaver said quietly, as she checked the time with the clock in Trauma One. Her hands stilled on the defibrillator paddles as she gave into the fact that they were not going to win this tug of war with death.
Looking down at the serene face before her, the youth and vitality of the young woman in her early thirties, she felt the waste of life. Everyday she came to work, not knowing who she would be treating or whose life she would possibly be holding in the balance, her skill and knowledge as an emergency physician being drawn upon to make a difference in the balance of life versus death.
It was in cases like this that she felt the hopelessness of the struggle they fought, of man against nature, the known against the unknown.
Sara Carmichaels had been a known quantity. Over the years, she had come through the ER department and the hospital in her fight against her congenital heart problem. She had been what was commonly referred to as a 'blue baby' but to make matters worse, she had also had a hole in her heart.
As a baby, her parents had been told that she would not live past twelve or thirteen years but as time went on, medical advancements meant for an increase in her life-span to that of twenty. Open-heart surgery and the fitting of a pacemaker had enabled her to have a relatively normal life as long as she took care of herself.
Kerry had only known her over the last few years, during her residency and as an attending at County General. She knew her file from back to front, its bulky weight added to each time she came in. Sara had beaten meningitis, pneumonia and countless other diseases, coming out of it with a grin and laugh that they didn't really think she'd given up on life.
However, this time Sara wasn't sitting up and laughing. There was no little rise in the line on cardiac monitor to indicate a sight of her zest for life, her effervescent laughter lighting up the room, just the monotone call of death.
Dropping the paddles back on the defibrillator, she slowly made her way out of the trauma room, pulling off the gloves covering her hands as she knew the task ahead of her.
Sara's husband was in the waiting area, anxiously pacing the room, as he held their five month old daughter in his arms. Richard looked up as Kerry came towards him, fear and hope alternatively flooding his face. Kerry came before him and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, asked for him to sit down.
It was then that he knew. Sara had gone. All he had left of her was in his arms and he just didn't know how he was going to cope.
Kerry knew as she went through the procedure of explaining what had happened to his wife, that Richard was not absorbing any of the information other than the fact that his wife was dead. The baby woke in his arm, her cries unanswered by her father as he sat in shock unable to go on from his loss.
Taking the child in her arms, Kerry calmed her for the moment. Catching Jeanie's attention, she arranged for her to call for Sara's parents to notify them of their daughter's death.
It was then that she knew that Richard needed to say goodbye to his wife, to realise that she would not be returning to his arms. Grasping his hand, she gently got him to his feet and guided him silently down to Trauma One where he had a chance to whisper his words of love to the wife which he had loved and lost.